Walk of Shame
by Eve Levine
Summary: Ima gets dressed quickly, but she doesn't scurry.  Nobody makes her scurry anymore, not even cranky bikers with killer hangovers.  Everybody has a story and everybody is the hero of their own story.  This is Ima's.  One-Shot.


_A.N.- I have no rights to any of these characters. Kurt Sutter owns all of them._

_I was working on the next few chapters of my story when this scene, and a few other scenes told from Ima's POV fell into my head. I don't know why, but they wouldn't go away until I started writing them down. This may end up a one-shot, or I might add a few more chapters if anybody is interested in reading them. I know Ima's not a sympathetic figure, but she and her back story have gotten very complicated in my head in just a few days. Like it or loathe it, let me know what you think._

* * *

><p>Ima gets dressed quickly, but she doesn't scurry. Nobody makes her scurry anymore, not even cranky bikers with killer hangovers. She's not a blushing virgin, she doesn't believe in the "walk of shame," and she can take his hard silence.<p>

Ima thought she understood Jax. Thought she saw right through him, knew some of their hook up was about breaking up with his girl and knew some of it was about wanting to fuck the hottest chick at Cara Cara. Thought she recognized a piece of herself in him and thought they were working two angles together. Hot uncomplicated sex with each other and a big fuck you to the girlfriend. And it was fun. And she let herself like him a little more.

She had a moment of temporary insanity the night before, right after he came, when he curled down into her body and panted against her neck, where she found herself wanting him to kiss her collarbone. Ima arched against him, nudging him in that direction, wanting some of the sweetness boyfriends show their girlfriends, not the heavy lidded smirk of a bored co-star while she's wiping their cum out of her eyes.

It only lasted a moment, and when he didn't take the hint, when he wouldn't put his lips on her, she had to save face. She arched further, indicating she wanted him to get off of her. He rolled to the side and stared at the ceiling, his hand on his chest, rubbing the tattoo there. He was probably thinking about his kid, and Ima didn't have a fucking clue what to say to him about that. Yeah it was time for her to leave. Ima rolled away from Jax and found her panties on the floor. She almost didn't want to put them back on. When's the last time somebody vacuumed the floor? It was seriously nasty. She was looking for her bra when he finally spoke.

"You don't have to leave," he said and his voice was thick with some emotion Ima couldn't read.

"Yeah, I do. I don't do sleepovers." She answered and it earned her a snort before he dug around in the nightstand drawer and produced a joint.

"Fine, but smoke this with me first." He grinned at her and lit the joint, taking a deep hit and blowing the smoke at her. "C'mon darlin', you know you want it." Ima would never admit it out loud, but it was the grin and the darlin' that got her back into his bed, not the offered weed.

She laid back down and they passed the joint back and forth. He didn't try to hold her, which was good because Ima's not sure if that's exactly what she wanted, or if it would have sent her running out of the door. They didn't have much to say, but it wasn't weird. It was almost nice. Jax got up at one point to lock the door and Ima fell victim to a stream of pot-laced giggles because wasn't it a little late for that? The sex was over. It was like shutting the barn door after the last of the horses had run out. And after she was high and sleepy and had decided she might not hate it if he wanted to cuddle, he turned the light out and told her to get some sleep.

Ima's knows now he wasn't locking the door, he was unlocking it. Leaving it open so his girlfriend could find them. Which is okay, Ima gets accomplishing two things with one action. She does it all the time. And really, it worked out so well for her too. Ima really owed Tara for the damage inflicted on her car. What kind of psycho pulls a gun over a squabble about dick?

She looks over at Jax. His eyes are narrowed and they're following her every movement with… she can't quite name it, but she knows she doesn't like it. Why is he being such a douche? The sex was good, but she's not looking to hold his hand, she's not clinging, and they both got what they wanted the next morning. They can be friendly. It doesn't have to get tense.

And then she puts it together. He wasn't working two angles last night, he was just working one. None of it was about her, it was all about the girlfriend. Ima can feel herself getting pissed. She doesn't let men make her feel disposable... ever. She disposes of them.

"Sooo, this whole thing. Fucking me, the door, spending the night, all of it was so she could catch you with me. Wasn't it?" Ima asks him as she pulls on her jacket, and she's really proud of herself when her voice comes out casual and light as if she's amused by it all. Jax doesn't answer. He licks his lips and takes another drag of his cigarette, his eyes never leaving hers; seemingly challenging her to make a scene. Ima looks away first.

Ima doesn't like Tara, kinda enjoys how hurt she must be right now as she tears away in that ridiculous old boat of hers –because really, fuck the bitch- but there's a sense Ima's getting that maybe Jax really is too much like herself. Those little hopeful whispers she's been trying to stifle of maybe making a real effort with a guy, and maybe Jax being that guy, need to be thrown out the window. Because Ima's not naïve, and she knows if he can do this to somebody they all say he's loved since he was a kid, he would tear her in two and spit on the pieces if she ever let herself trust him.

"Wow Jax. That's fucked up." She says with a smile that hurts her face.

Jax stubs out his cigarette and gets out of bed. "I told you to leave," he tosses over his shoulder as he walks into the bathroom. He doesn't look back or even bother closing the door as he starts the shower and climbs into it.

It hits her then, exactly what the look in his eyes means. It's contempt and she's seen it there before. At the wrap party, at the jail, last night, a minute ago, it's always been there under the surface, behind every smile he's ever thrown at her. She's just been too busy trying to land him -trying to knock other chicks out of the way and win the biggest trophy a town like Charming can offer- to notice he never liked her.

Ima puts on her heels. Fuck, her feet hurt, but she doesn't limp as she goes to the door. She flips her hair and rolls her hips into a saunter. There's a bunch of way too casual bikers sitting quietly around the bar. Ima meets all of their eyes, even Opie's as he glares at her and stands there looming like the world's tallest cock block. She smiles at him as she heads for the door. Her head is up, and she makes really fucking sure there's no shame in her walk.


End file.
